


honeybun

by alyciaclebnam



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, established bemily, pp2 au where jeca aren't together anymore and bechloe aren't highkey in love, this is just 3000+ words of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 20:45:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17128445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyciaclebnam/pseuds/alyciaclebnam
Summary: Beca finds out that Emily isn't as sweet as she thinks, but she loves her all the same.





	honeybun

**Author's Note:**

> i recommend listening to "honey" by kehlani :)

Beca starts pulling off her coat as soon as she gets through the front door. Someone has the heat all the way up – probably Stacie, who’s a goddamn reptile that needs warmth for all her limbs to function – and the air is so thick that it's almost suffocating. She hates having the thermostat so high, because she likes being cold enough to still wear long sleeves and stuff inside the house.

It might have something to do with Emily always leaving her sweaters and hoodies around the place, which Beca likes to borrow because they’re way too big for her and she ends up with cute little sweater-paws.

Beca would sooner lie under oath than admit any of that though.

So yeah, she hates having the heat on when there’s perfectly good cold weather to take advantage of. But the temperature outside is colder than her relationship with her step-mother, and Beca needs to defrost after walking across campus, so she makes an exception for today.

“Em?” Beca calls out, lumbering up the stairs to her and Amy’s loft bedroom. “Chloe said you were up here.”

She rounds the top of the stairs and sees Emily lounging on the couch, phone in hand. The couch is surprisingly clear of Fat Amy’s things, but Beca realises that Emily has just shifted it all to the floor.

Not like Amy would notice anyway, since she’s barely ever home.

If Beca warms at the thought of Emily making space for herself in her bedroom, the way that she did in Beca’s heart – unintentionally and unapologetically – she doesn’t show it.

“Hey Bec,” Emily greets with Beca’s favourite smile, a closed-mouth one that makes the corners of her eyes go all crinkly. She puts her phone down on the coffee table and stretches her arms out expectantly.

She makes grabby-hands when Beca doesn’t get there in two seconds flat, which makes Beca roll her eyes, though she’s smiling all the while. When she gets close enough, Beca tosses her coat on the arm of the couch and falls into Emily’s waiting arms.

“Sorry I’m late,” Beca says, pressing a light kiss to Emily’s lips. Emily hums contentedly. “They still haven’t shovelled the main street through campus, so I had to take a detour to avoid swimming through snow and coming home with hypothermia.”

Emily rubs her upper arms sympathetically. Beca allows it, even though she’s perfectly warm now. At Emily’s insistence, she takes a seat on the other side of the couch, leaning against the armrest, and swings her legs up into Emily’s lap.

“Have you been waiting long?” Beca asks as Emily starts running the tips of her fingers absently along her jean-clad shin.

Emily shakes her head, her touch becoming more purposeful as she starts kneading Beca’s calf.

“A few minutes, maybe? It’s okay though, I was just on the phone with my mom-”

Beca lets out a soft groan and throws her head back over the armrest. “Please, for the love of all things holy-”

“No, she has _not_ stopped calling us aca-sisters-turned-girlfriends,” Emily informs her dryly.

Beca wrinkles her nose. “Did you give her the speech?”

“About how gross it sounds when she tells people that her daughter is dating her sister?” Emily clarifies. She huffs a laugh. “Yeah, there’s no hope there; she’s already married to the words.”

Beca sighs. Emily gives her leg a comforting squeeze.

“Anyway,” Emily adds, switching calves and continuing her massage. “Mom and dad are super excited to finally meet you. I’m so happy you’re coming home with me for Christmas.”

“Don’t remind me,” Beca moans, casting her gaze up to the ceiling and relaxing into Emily’s touch. “I’m already nervous as it is.”

“Come on, they’re _my_ parents,” Emily says. She’s probably trying to be reassuring, because her parents must be actual saints to have raised someone as wonderful as her, but her words just make Beca even more apprehensive; Beca _wants_ to make a good impression on Emily’s parents, and when she wants something, she usually finds a way to mess it up. “Do you really think it could go that badly?”

Beca grunts, because _duh_. “If I’ve learned anything from a lifetime of being emotionally constipated and touch starved, it’s that I can antagonise people without even trying. Just ask Aubrey. And Jesse. Oh, and Chloe. Definitely my dad-”

“Okay, okay,” Emily cuts her off, but Beca can hear the smile in her voice and she lifts her head back up just so that she can see it. The tenderness of that impulse would probably have made pre-Emily Beca gag, but post-Emily Beca makes disgustingly sappy allowances for her girlfriend.

“So you sometimes suck at expressing your feelings in a healthy way,” Emily continues, which makes Beca press her lips together wryly. “I’ve got someone you can practice on!”

Beca’s expression twists into a smirk. “Fishing for compliments, babe?”

“What? No, not me,” Emily says confusedly, and her hands loosen around Beca’s leg. Beca pouts at the abrupt end to her massage, until Emily announces, “Kevin!”

“Oh,” Beca perks back up. “Kevin is here?”

Emily nods toward her bed, and Beca coos at the grey spotted tabby curled into a ball on top of the covers. He doesn’t react in the slightest, and Beca’s respect for him grows.

Ever since the cat turned up on the Bellas’ doorstep, Beca has been his unofficial owner. She usually sidesteps at the mention of responsibility, but Kevin – _god_ she hates Chloe for giving him that name – took to her best, so she was forced to sack up and claim him.

Or let him claim her. Whatever.

He probably only likes her because she gives as much of a shit about the world as he does.

(In reality, it’s probably because her and Amy’s bedroom, being at the top of the house, is the warmest. Beca’s ego prefers to believe that he actually enjoys her company.)

Beca lifts her legs out of Emily’s lap and makes her way over to the bed. She plants herself down next to Kevin, who finally responds when the mattress dips beside him. He makes a little surprised noise when Beca’s fingers sink into his fur, like he wasn’t fully awake until she touched him.

“Hey honeybun,” Beca murmurs. Kevin’s claws sink into the comforter as he stretches his legs, but Beca doesn’t get mad, because she knows by now that she can’t stop him. “Who’s a good boy?”

“Wait,” Emily pipes up. Beca can hear the confusion in her tone, so she glances over at her girlfriend, who’s sitting on the couch watching them. “Why don’t you call me that?”

Beca eyes her amusedly, her fingers scratching gently at Kevin’s head. “I know we haven’t discussed our kinks much, but calling you a ‘good boy’ is weird, even for you.”

“Ha,” Emily says wryly. “I meant ‘honeybun’. You never call me pet names.”

Beca makes a face. “Kevin is our _pet_ , so a pet name makes sense, right? And it’s supposed to sound _deliberately_ mushy, because I can’t say his actual name in a baby voice without feeling gross,” she says with a grimace; ‘Kevin’ is an old man name and it just doesn’t feel right. “Besides, I called you ‘babe’ like five seconds ago.”

Emily frowns. “You call everyone 'babe',” she points out. “You even said ‘thanks babe’ to our barista yesterday. Why don’t I get a special name?”

To Beca’s absolute horror, Emily’s eyes start watering. Beca flounders at the sudden escalation to a fight she didn’t even know was happening.

“Em, please,” Beca implores, standing up immediately and coming back over to her girlfriend. She kneels in front of Emily, but her hands flutter uselessly around her teary face. She tries again, “This is a stupid argument to get upset over.”

She realises, in hindsight, that that is the _wrong_ thing to say to a crying girl.

Emily scoffs and bats Beca’s hands away. “Don’t tell me what to be upset about,” she says, wiping at her cheeks with her shirtsleeves.

Beca blows out a heavy exhale. “You’re right,” she says simply, because Emily always is, especially this time. “I’m sorry,” she adds sincerely, looking down at her feet. And then because she’s a sap that just wants to make her girlfriend happy, she gives Emily what she wants, “ _Honeybun_.”

There’s a moment of silence, during which Beca pleads with whatever deity may exist that Emily doesn’t break up with her for being an asshole. She doesn’t really believe in God, but she prays all the same.

“See?” Emily says with a sniffle. Beca looks up at her hopefully. “Doesn’t it sound cute?”

Beca almost melts with relief, because she knows that the fight is over. “ _You’re_ cute,” she tells her girlfriend with a grumble, collapsing onto the couch and pulling Emily into her lap. “And dumb,” she adds, because she can only be agreeable for so long. For a second, she thinks it might be too soon, but then she feels Emily's mouth curl into a smile against her neck.

“Oh _honeybun_ ,” Beca coos teasingly. She kisses the top of Emily’s head with a loud smack. “You know I’m just going to use that to make fun of you now, right?”

Emily hums nonchalantly against her skin. “I’m still counting it as a win.”

That doesn’t surprise Beca, honestly. They stay wrapped up in each other for a while, until Emily pulls back and pins Beca with a meaningful stare. Beca shifts uncomfortably.

“What?”

“You know what would make it a super official pet name?” Emily asks.

Beca can’t help herself. “That’s not a thing, but go on.”

“If you said it in front of the Bellas.”

Beca denies the request upfront. “No. No way.”

Emily doesn’t relent. She doesn’t say anything, just gives Beca a pointed _look_.

And because Beca is so fucking soft for this girl, she closes her eyes and sighs.

“You’re actually being serious.”

Emily nods solemnly. “Dixie Chicks serious.”

Beca almost snorts. “I would bet all of my sound equipment that Aubrey taught you that phrase specifically to taunt me. You were probably still in the womb when the Dixie Chicks controversy happened.”

“Oh, Bec. Honeybun,” Emily says melodramatically, cupping Beca’s cheeks in both hands. “I know math isn’t your strong suit, but I’m only three years younger than you.”

“Don’t you ‘honeybun’ me,” Beca protests, shaking her head so that Emily drops her hands. “Em, seriously, do I have to?”

Kevin is looking at her sharply from his place on the bed, and Beca realises her voice has climbed up to a whine. Emily is considering her with an indecipherable expression.

Beca feels like something bad is about to happen, and she’s right.

“I haven’t seen my roommate in a while,” Emily trails off and turns away with a thoughtful frown. “Maybe I should sleep in my dorm tonight?”

Beca grits her teeth, but she doesn’t even manage to hold out for ten seconds.

“Okay, fine,” she concedes. “I’ll do it. Just sleep with me tonight, please?”

Emily smiles winningly. “Sure, babe.”

Her stare drops to Beca’s mouth, and Beca can’t help the way her gaze flickers down to Emily’s lips too. Neither of them notice Flo’s forehead peeking up from the staircase, so they both jump a little when she speaks.

“Chloe says to come down because dinner is ready,” Flo says, like she doesn’t know that she interrupted something, or doesn’t care.

With the mood thoroughly doused, Beca nudges Emily up and they both get to their feet. They descend the loft stairs together, but before they can get down the second set of stairs to the ground floor, Flo addresses Beca.

“Is that how you ask girls to have sex with you?” she asks sceptically. “And it _works_?”

Just ahead of them, Beca hears Emily muffle a laugh. She plasters on a smile and tries to chuckle through her discomfort.

***

Dinner is the same as always. The Bellas chat idly as they eat, and most of the discussion tonight revolves around their plans for winter break.

Beca hasn’t said much. She’s been thinking about Emily’s request for the better part of ten minutes. There have been numerous openings to fulfil it, but her pride has made her forfeit them all so far.

She looks at Emily, deep in conversation with Stacie about organic chemistry or something equally nerdy, and she remembers how she looked just minutes ago with tears in her eyes.

Emily’s happiness is worth more to Beca than her reputation. She’s never been surer of that, which is why she does what she does next.

“Hey honeybun, could you pass the mashed potatoes?”

Emily turns away from Stacie with a wide grin. “Oh yeah, of course, babe.”

She hands over the bowl and Beca starts scooping potato onto her plate. It’s then that she notices the eerie silence that’s fallen over the table, and how all of the Bellas are watching her.

“What?” Beca asks with a confused frown. “Did I take too much?”

Chloe just laughs in disbelief. She’s not even looking at Beca anymore; her gaze is trained solely on Emily.

“You actually did it. You made her say a mushy pet name with zero sarcasm.”

Beca swings her confused frown towards her girlfriend, who is smiling smugly, but not at Beca – at the rest of the Bellas.

“I told you I could,” Emily says triumphantly. She extends a hand over the table, palm-up. “Pay up, aca-bitches.”

Beca has never been more attracted to anyone in her _life_. She feels a rush of emotions – astonishment, admiration, affection – as she watches the Bellas either pull money out of their pockets or promise to grab their wallets after dinner.

“Oh, I don’t carry cash,” Fat Amy announces when she’s the last one to settle up. “All my money is in an offshore account – ‘cause that’s perfectly normal, you know?” she laughs to herself. No one else joins in. “Just text me your bank details and I’ll send you your winnings. From my perfectly legal offshore account. Not like I’m trying to evade taxes in the good ol’ U.S. of A.”

“You know what?” Emily says lightly. “Maybe you can just buy me a coffee sometime,” she offers diplomatically. “We can call it even, and it saves you from having to access your, uh. Legal offshore account.”

Fat Amy gives her an approving nod. “Best idea I’ve ever heard come out of your guppy lips,” she says, returning to her roast beef. “You’ve got a deal.”

The rest of the Bellas resume their dinner activities but Beca sits quietly before her half-full plate, still processing everything that just happened.

“Emily,” she begins, when the reality of the situation eventually sinks in. “Did you just extort our friends for money?”

Emily sends her a satisfied smile around a mouthful of food, which is all the confirmation she needs. Beca swears she’s never seen anything more beautiful. That’s why she blurts out her next few words.

“Oh my God, I love you.”

The Bellas freeze for the second time that night. Emily stares at her with a fork loaded with glazed carrots halfway to her mouth.

“Shit,” Beca frowns when she realises what she’s said, dropping her gaze to the table. “I didn’t-” she stops herself short though, because despite the inopportune moment, she _did_ mean it. “Actually, fuck that,” she declares, nodding decisively to herself. “Yeah, I meant it.”

When she finally looks up, she discovers that Emily is crying again. Her fork clatters down to her plate, sending bits of food flying in all directions.

“I love you,” Beca affirms, reaching for Emily’s hand. It’s clammy from brushing away her tears, but she ignores that, like she ignores the splodge of gravy that landed on her shirt when Emily dropped her fork. She repeats softly, just for Emily’s ears, “I love you.”

Emily turns in her seat to face her properly. She doesn’t say anything, just looks at Beca with a shaky smile and then reaches for her face with her free hand. The kiss is wet and inelegant and tastes faintly of roast beef, but Beca still sinks into it, because she’s totally in love with this girl and Chloe’s roast beef isn’t the worst.

They pull back and Beca wipes at her cheeks with a soft laugh, thinking that Emily must have been crying throughout the kiss, only to realise that her cheeks are wet because she was crying too.

Emily takes her face in both hands and presses one last chaste kiss to her lips. They’re both smiling so wide that the kiss is just as graceless as the first, but Beca can’t stop smiling long enough to kiss Emily properly, and she doesn’t mind that being the reason.

“I love you too,” Emily whispers.

Beca vaguely registers the Bellas celebrating their moment around them, but right now, she only has eyes for Emily.

***

“How did you do it?” Beca asks later, when they’re helping clear the table.

Emily smiles breezily as she scrapes and stacks the plates. “I’m the only one who knows you call Kevin ‘honeybun’ and I decided to use it to my advantage. All I had to do was find him and be in the right place at the right time.”

“You sound so confident,” Beca says with a lazy smirk, continuing to box up the leftovers. She’s not bitter about being played – she’s actually ridiculously impressed – she just wants to know how Emily masterminded her. “How did you know I would fall for your scheme?”

“Oh, honeybun,” Emily coos, stacking the last plate with a victorious grin. “Think back through our relationship. Have you ever denied me a single thing?”

Beca pretends to think, but she already knows the answer. “… No.”

Emily smiles at her. It’s not a smug smile, nor a triumphant one; she just looks _happy_.

“That’s how I knew,” Emily says, when Beca smiles back instinctively. “Because you _love_ me, and you’ll do whatever it takes to make me happy.”

Beca can’t argue with that, but she can certainly grumble at the sentimentality.

“Okay, you know what?” she tries to sound assertive, but Emily just hums like she doesn’t believe her tone. “Fuck your height-justified big spoon argument – _I_ want to be the big spoon tonight.”

Unfortunately, Flo is walking back from the kitchen to grab Emily’s stack of plates and overhears her words. Beca feels her skin burning from the tips of her ears down to her neck, but Flo doesn’t even tease her like the other Bellas would, just looks between the two of them with a confused expression.

“Honestly,” she says. “I don’t get why half the girls here are attracted to you.”

Flo takes the plates back to the kitchen without waiting for a response. Beca wants to crawl in a hole and die of shame, but Emily directs another smile at her – Beca’s favourite crinkly-eyed one – and she can only smile back lovingly.

The house is still too hot and her pride is reeling from that last humiliating social interaction, but Emily is right here with her, so this is a forever that Beca can probably be okay with.


End file.
